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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373778">Trinkets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Babylon 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Post-Canon, Telepath War, Vorlons - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:55:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>890</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyta recruits one of the Vorlons' infamous little frozen toys: Deathwalker.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jha'dur &amp; Lyta Alexander</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous, Bad Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Trinkets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt "The Collector."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Vorlons could be hoarders if left unchecked. They liked their collections, especially when those collections were full of living things. It kind of reminded Lyta of taxidermy, or the little bit Delenn had taught her about Soul Hunters back when they were on what Lyta thought were good terms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except, when the Vorlons cryogenically froze people of interest, they didn't just sit behind glass for the rest of their lives to be idly observed. They'd be thawed to come out and serve a purpose and learn a lesson. The kinds of people that fit this sort of formula made for a very, very interesting museum as Lyta walked down the outpost's halls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She'd been here before a couple of times with Kosh, and once with Ulkesh. Not this particular area, but the outpost itself. Kosh's memories told her where to go, however, once she'd reached the fuzzy ends of her own. They also told her what precisely she would find.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She'd missed a lot during her time away from Babylon 5. The real action seemed to happen when she was trapped behind Corps walls or hanging around Mars Resistance. Kosh's memories clued her in to it all, but it was still a bit different than experiencing those things herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyway, the infamous Deathwalker ended up on the station some time in… 2257, she thought? Maybe 2258. Vorlon concepts of time never quite fit with her own too well. But because of some deals Jha'dur tried to make, the Vorlons staged her death and put her in cryogenic time-out. Apparently, they'd done the same with Jack the Ripper and quite a few others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn't here for a Victorian serial killer, however. She was here to give the Resistance the upper hand. Lyta was a weapon herself. All teeps were when you got down to the core of it. But they'd be fighting against other teeps. They needed </span>
  <em>
    <span>new</span>
  </em>
  <span> weapons, and who better than the weapons master herself?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pressed her fingertips against the cold glass, behind which slept the Dilgar. Instinctually, she hit the buttons to wake her up, leaned back with crossed arms, and waited. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something like smoke billowed from the door as it shrunk away. Jha'dur, the mighty war criminal, fell forward in a fit of coughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Morning," said Lyta, plunging sharp tendrils into Jha'dur's mind as soon as her consciousness pulsed. "We have work to do."</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What makes you think I'll do anything for you?" Jha'dur asked, wrinkling her nose over the cup of coffee Lennier had sat down in front of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lyta took a sip of her own before sending him off to the cockpit. "You won't have a choice."</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jha'dur squinted and tightened the blanket draped around her shoulders. She still had no clue Lyta had wrapped herself around Jha'dur's mind even tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The Vorlons are gone," Lyta explained. "I'm what's left. And you really</span>
  <em>
    <span> don't</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to piss me off." </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jha'dur pushed the cup away. "I do not take kindly to threats."</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lyta tsked. "I'm afraid you aren't in any position for that kind of talk, Jha'dur. You're going to help me and you're going to make this as easy as possible or there </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be consequences."</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh?" Jha'dur raised what Lyta assumed to be an eyebrow. "And what do I get out of it?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't shove you back into cryo," Lyta explained, almost letting out a laugh. Jha’dur was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> prisoner, and she was really on the cusp of making demands? She was acting like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserved </span>
  </em>
  <span>freedom, like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>committed mass genocide. "Other than that, it really isn't about gaining for you. If you don't comply, you'll be punished. If you plot against me, I'll know. If you don't give me reason to keep you alive… you die." That part was a bluff, but Jha'dur didn't need to know Lyta had differed from the Vorlons in just how cruel she was willing to be. "It's simple, really."</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You need me just as much as I need you,"  Jha'dur hissed, lunging up from her seat as though that would intimidate Lyta of all people. Those catlike eyes scanned Lyta thoroughly, noting every little similarity she could possibly glean; the determination in her tone, the unshakeable steel of her glare, the amorality it must have taken for Lyta to choose her at all... </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It made Lyta feel sick. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> like you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jha’dur’s eyes widened when she recognized the implications. After all, being acquainted with the Vorlons enough to pry her out of cryo meant Lyta was far more than an average human; if she was even human at all. Jha’dur thinly smiled, leaning in close. “And yet you hire me to do your dirty work. You cannot pretend your hands are clean simply because they are not the ones drenched in blood.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lyta telekinetically shoved her back into her seat so hard she thought she heard the metal crack. When she stood from her own chair and looked down at the fabled war criminal, it took everything in her to ignore her own reflection in those bright, catlike eyes. "I'd get to work if I were you." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jha’dur let out a combination of a cough and a cackle. It ran across Lyta’s skin like miniscule daggers, like Jha’dur’s own claws were splitting open her spine. “Where shall we begin?”</span>
</p>
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